


Friendly Advice from Foes

by InsaneTrollLogic



Series: CW Impulse Fic [4]
Category: Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bart crashes the CW 'verse, Episode: s01e10 Revenge of the Rogues, Family, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, supervillains giving parenting advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneTrollLogic/pseuds/InsaneTrollLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Cold sets a trap for a speedster... and catches Bart instead of the Flash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendly Advice from Foes

**Author's Note:**

> [This one's a vague mashup of Revenge of the Rogues and Rogue Time. But still before the Wells reveal.]

Bart can’t get enough traction. Normal circumstances, he can get up most vertical surfaces if he has the right combination of speed and friction, but he’d literally fallen into this pit. It curves near the top, giving it the appearance of a fish bowl.

A very, cold fishbowl.

Bart rubs at his arms, using his speed to generate heat from friction. Cisco told him the suit was fire resistant. If the past was this cold, they should have made it thermal. He tries to generate enough speed to scale the walls again, but the walls are iced and he can’t get traction.

He may have screwed up.

He may have screwed up _bad_.

His mouth shapes the word _Barry,_ but he swallows it back down. Barry would be mad enough that he fell into a trap, without exposing his identity as well.

Overhead, a man appears, he’s wrapped in a furry hooded parka, his eyes hidden by some seriously retro goggles.

Bart squints through his own goggles, “Whoareyousupposedtobe?”

“Well, you’re definitely not what I was supposed to catch. What do I call you?”

“Impulse,” Bart answers.

“Cute,” Cold replies. “They’re giving code names to children now. Well, I’ve got one, too. Your friend Cisco calls me Captain Cold.”

Something prickles in the base of Bart’s spine. “Captain Cold,” he says, forcing himself to slow down enough to be understood. “I’ve heard about you.”

“No doubt your dad had some things to say,” Cold replies heaving some sort of gun over his shoulder. “That would be the Flash, wouldn’t it? I was wondering why the speedster I snagged was a good fifteen years younger than the one I was expecting.”

“He’snotmydad,” Bart snaps. He flinches and then repeats at a normal pace, “Flash isn’t my dad.”

“Kid, of course he’s your dad. It’s not a huge leap.”

Bart juts his chin out in defiance. “He’ll find me.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

* * *

And Barry’s day had started so well.

“Greetings, citizens of Central City.” The familiar face on the video screen distorts as he leans closer to the wide-angled lens. Joe’s hand finds Barry’s shoulder. “I am Leonard Snart. But you can call me Cold. This is a message for the mysterious red streak. I’ve found something for yours and I expect you’ll want it back. Porter and main, tonight, sundown. Show the whole world you're real and we’ll discuss well...”

The camera pans, but Barry already knows what he’s about to see, is fighting the urge to flee the room at super speed, to scour the city, but there are too many eyes in the police station, too many chances to be discovered.

At the same time he barely cares about his cover, because even despite the bad angle, the iced cavern and the dark blue blanket that no doubts hides the suit, he recognizes that mop hair.

Joe’s hands tightens on his shoulder. He hears Eddie’s voice, “Jesus, that’s a kid.”

That’s _Barry_ ’s kid. His grandson from an alternate future who he’d adopted when he was stranded in the past.

“Enough incentive for you, Flash?” Cold drawls on the television. “See you soon.”

The transmission gives way to the newscaster’s solemn faces and the police station that had stalled with the broadcast swirls back into motion.

But Barry can’t find it in himself to move.

“You okay?” Joe asks under his breath.

“That was Bart,” Barry says.

“Barry…”

“I’ve got to get to STAR labs.” It’s a conscious effort not to slip into super speed. “Cisco will already be trying to trace it.”

“You’ve got to take a step back,” Joe orders. “You can’t run into this headfirst. Snart’s a planner, always has been, you have to think.”

“Joe,” Barry interrupts. “What would you do if it was Iris?”

* * *

Bart pushes his goggles off as he huddled under the blanket Cold had tossed him. There’s someone else looming at the mouth of his cavern, a hulking man in a sooty t-shirt, absently flicking a lighter. “Kid doesn’t look more than twelve.”

“I’m two and a half,” Bart says. With the ice taking his speed, the words come out slow, _normal._ Bart hugs the blanket tighter.

“Sure you are, baby Flash,” the big guy replies. “Snart, how do we know this isn’t your speedster?”

“Because I’ve run across our speedster before. Red suit. Judging by the voice and what I could see of the face, mid-twenties, well-educated. A kid, but not an actual child.” Cold frowns. “Though from the look of the mini Flash, I may have been off about the age.”

“Off about a lot of things,” the big guy says. “I don’t hurt kids.”

“Then let me go,” Bart calls. His fingers are going blue. His teeth chatter.

“Can’t do that either,” Cold says, directing his gaze to the pit. “See, you seem to have the same heroic propensities as your old man. You’re much more useful to me in hand.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Cold smirks. “Flash doesn’t know that.”

* * *

Barry’s already run the city three times, every street looking for a sign, but Snart is too careful, too practiced. He’s only faced Barry once before and Snart’s already got him pegged. Barry can run a three second mile and he’s still losing.

Iris is waiting for him in STAR labs, scrolling through newsfeeds on her phone. “The Internet’s been going crazy trying to find out who the kid is. Current theory is he’s a runaway.”

“Yes,” Harrison Wells says from his station at the computer console. “We’re very fortunate this isn’t worse.”

“Any worse?” Barry’s in front of Harrison Wells in a blink, lightning crackling in his eyes. “Cold has _Bart._ You think I give a damn about my identity right now?”

Wells stares him down. “I understand, Barry, that your priority right now is Bart. You can’t worry about the Flash. So let us worry for you. There is a way to play this so that you get Bart back as well as keep your identity under wraps. You can deal with this crisis, but do not begrudge me trying to mitigate one that could destroy you in the future. You and Bart, both.”

Barry slowly forces his fists to unravel, turning away from Wells as he calls, “Cisco! We need to get Felicity on this. Maybe there’s a way she can back trace the location from the broadcast.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s Iris, squeezing tight. The tension doesn’t leave.

“I’ve got this, you know,” Cisco says as he enters the room. “I’ve been working on the trace all day.”

“I don’t care,” Barry snaps. “This isn’t about who’s _better_. If Felicity can help, we need to get her looking.”

“Right,” Cisco says. “Of course.”

“My dad’s looking, too,” Iris says. “And Eddie.”

“Snart’s a killer, Iris.” Barry leans into her touch, feeling tears threaten on the edges of his vision. “He’s a killer and he has Bart. He has my _kid_ and I haven’t… Iris I haven’t even managed to introduce him to my _dad_.”

“We’ll find him,” Iris promises and Barry wants to believe her.

* * *

They don’t find him.

Not before the deadline on Snart’s rendezvous. Barry arrives to a horde of policemen, Snart brandishing his gun.

Barry doesn’t waste time, doesn’t let the reporters or the police slow him down. Doesn’t even let Snart say a single word. He scoops the man up in a fireman’s carry and deposits him in the woods two miles away, his gun confiscated and in pieces before he has the chance to recover from his nausea.

“Where is he?” Barry roars.

Snart braces a hand on his knee, holding the second up with his finger pointed sideways. “You’ll have to give me a second, kid. I want to enjoy this.”

“Enjoy this? The only reason you’re not tied up outside the police station is that I won’t see that kid getting hurt.”

“You mean your _son_.” Snart straightens as Barry flinches. “Impulse. The one you dressed in a friction proof suit and sent after your supervillain like a good little soldier.”

Barry sputters. “What? I didn’t just—I would never _let him_ do anything like this. Do you think I want him out here? Do you think I want him running into a murderer like you?”

“Better me than others,” Snart snaps. “I don’t hurt kids and I don’t plan on starting now.”

“Then he’s okay?”

“A little on the cold side, but unharmed,” Snart concedes. “My… associate is making sure he’s safe. I thought the two of us needed to have a chat about acceptable activities for middle schoolers.”

“Are you…” Barry unfolds his arms. He feels the tug of a disbelieving smile. “Are you scolding me for letting him fight? Because I’d like to see you try to keep track of an unruly preteen speedster.”

“It’s not my job to keep track of him. It’s yours.” Snart’s fingers curl. “You have to understand I have a certain resistance to people entering a family business. The son does not always have to become the father.”

Barry blinks at him. “What are you talking about, Snart?”

“My father took me on my first job before I was eight years old.” Snart says, examining the back of his hand. “Kids are impressionable.”

“I didn’t bring him on a job!”

“But you gave him a fancy suit and minimal supervision and then he fell into a trap.”

“I’m not arguing about this with a wanted criminal. Snart, I just want him back.”

“It will cost you.”

“I don’t have money.”

“I want something more valuable,” Snart says. “Your name.”

“No, first I want B—” Barry catches himself before he says the kid’s name. “I want to see Impulse.”

“Impulse? And you say he has no part in the family business.”

“I don’t trust you,” Barry spits. “And I can’t believe I’m getting a lecture from a kidnapper.”

“It’s not my fault I caught the wrong speedster,” Snart says. “And you can always think of me as child protective services if—”

“Barry Allen,” Barry interrupts before he can stop himself.

“See.” Snart smirks. “That wasn’t so hard.”

* * *

Snart has the warehouse wired to blow, it’s on a timer. It gives Snart and his partner more than enough time to disappear before Barry recovers his son. When the mandatory time frame passes, Cisco confirms that the explosives have been deactivated and Barry rockets into the warehouse.

Bart is there. Barry has to find a length of rope and haul him out of some sort of iced pit. He’s shivering uncontrollably, his lips vaguely blue, but otherwise he’s okay.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he says over the chatter of his teeth.

“I am so glad you’re okay.” Barry says. “You scared me half to death.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Kid, I’ll be mad later. Right now, I just want to get you home.”

Bart buries his head in Barry’s shoulder and Barry, wraps his arm around the kid and picks him up. He’s light, but the weight is comforting in ways he never thought was possible. Bart usually likes to run with him, but Barry likes this too. He never even realized he wanted to run with someone else tucked in his arms.

When he blasts into STAR labs, Caitlin meets him in the door. She has to pry his arms from Bart in order to get him into the medical checkup.

Barry hovers, watching the familiar battery through the glass that gives some privacy to the medical room. Even through the barrier, he can tell Bart’s talking faster as the color returns to his cheeks.

After a few minutes, he feels Cisco by his shoulder. “You turned off your comms, man.”

“Didn’t know what kind of deal I’d have to make,” Barry says. “Didn’t really want the input.”

“Bart was in trouble,” Cisco protests. “We’d never have tried…”

“He fell into a trap meant for me.” Barry laughs. “Snart didn’t approve. I got a lecture in parenting from a supervillain.”

“Dude…”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Barry says. “Bart… he’s going to get hurt because of me.”

“This wasn’t your fault. You know, that whole thing with the kidnapper.”

 “I’m the Flash. And Bart’s got a costume and all of these _stories_ about superheroes.”

“And a hell of an example,” Dr. Wells says, rolling himself into the room. “Of course he’d want to follow in your footsteps. A family legacy.”

“I don’t want him out there.”

On the table, Bart obligingly watches as Caitlin shines a light in his eyes. His goggles are dangling around his neck, his arms waving in a no doubt overblown retelling of his adventures. Growing up in a virtual reality didn’t give a lot of room to develop a sense of self-preservation.

“It might not always be your choice,” Wells says. “He’s a very determined young man. And I suspect this is a discussion for another day. What I am rather more curious about is how you managed to barter for Impulse’s release.”

“Bart’s release,” Barry corrects. “We’re not encouraging _Impulse_.”

“Of course,” Wells concedes. “Snart must have realized Bart’s value. What did you give him?”

Barry forces himself to look Wells in the eyes. His voice is steady. He might not have made the right choice, but he’d make it again. And again. And again. “My name.”

Cisco sucks in an audible gasp. Wells’s entire frame tenses, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. “Barry, you realize…”

“I don’t care,” Barry says. “And like you said this is a conversation for another day.”

He leaves Cisco and Wells alone in the room, walking into medical where Bart looks up at him under his bangs. He’s pulled an over-sized STAR labs sweat shirt over his suit, color back in his cheeks. He scowls as Barry ruffles his hair.

“Sureyouwon’tyell?”

“Told you, kid. We’ll saving the yelling for tomorrow.” He glances sideways to Caitlin. “He got a clean bill of health?”

Caitlin rests a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Yes. The lingering effects from the temperature have already faded. Otherwise, it doesn’t look like Snart touched him.”

“I’ve got to call Iris and Joe,” Barry says. “Let them know you’re all right. But after, that I’m thinking you could probably use some food.”

Bart perks up. “Pizza?”

“Whatever you want, kid,” Barry promises. “Whatever you want.”


End file.
